Darkness before Dawn
by KickA
Summary: As Dawn and Cyrus battle in Team Galactic's Veilstone HQ, they reflect on each other. Oneshot Akatsukishipping.


"Empoleon! No!"

My cries echoed hollowly through the cold air. I knew my voice would do nothing to stop the pain my partner suffered through as the final blow came from the Honchkrow. The two birds had battled out their best, and the wet feathers sagging from Honchkrow's wings were a sign that Empoleon had not been completely helpless in this battle. Nevertheless, his paddle-shaped wings gripped the other's shoulders, trying to pull away from an already finishing move. With a forward jerking motion Honchkrow's beak dug deep into Empoleon's shoulder, tearing through muscle and nearly cracking bone with the sickening whir crunch of a drill.

The Honchkrow smirked and ripped back out, pulling an anguished scream from Empoleon as its beak came away dripping with blood, staining the white face feathers of the arrogant bird. Empoleon could stand it no longer. He struggled to his feet before letting out a weak chirp of sharp pain and collapsing back down, eyes that wouldn't open until he had reached a Pokemon Center who could repair the damage that the bliss of unconsciousness would not. It was too terrible to watch Pokemon so ruthlessly tear each other apart. I closed my own eyes as I searched for the pokeball on my belt to save my companion, to ease his pain even only slightly, with trembling fingers and hands that just couldn't stay dry. Cold, clammy wetness on them from the sweat of panic, they finally snatched up the red and white orbs before clicking down hard on the center button. Empoleon was recalled in a flash of red light. "Kroooooow!" The other trilled in triumph, victorious over all. We had lost. We had lost everything.

I felt sick, nauseated , my cold clammy hands grasping for some sort of support, finding only empty space. I inhaled, air in my lungs was cold, chaffing. Blinking I could make out his gaunt face, Cyrus only stared, no trace of emotion in his pale blue eyes. Recalling his Honchcrow, he opened his mouth to speak.

"…Do you feel anger at your loss? Or disappointment? I can see the bitterness of it written on your face…those emotions…anger, fear, resentment, those feeling teeming inside you…. Those are the things I aim to eliminate."

I heard his footsteps reverberating in my throbbing head. I could see his black leather shoes through my hair, and reflected in the cold metal floor. I focused on them, the clean stitches captivating me, keeping me awake. Again he spoke.

"Do you understand this…Dawn?" The way my name slipped through his lips made me cold inside. It wasn't just the sound that invaded my body, or the feel of his breath moving the strands of my hair, it was that I did understand. I knew his desire for an empty world, a clean slate, a painting set without the red coloring. What once seemed to me so perverse, so insane, had taken some form of reason. ..._A world without pain…_ I squeezed my eyes shut. No, I couldn't allow that. I glared up at him, a hot dampness now running down my cheeks, pain morphing into pinpricks of heat in my eyes. "You're insane." I told him, a denial of his ideas, of all that he stood for. I didn't understand, and I didn't want to understand that way of thinking. Not ever.

He didn't flinch at my words or my tone or my tears. He just looked at me with the same unnerving expression of boredom tinged with distaste. "I see." My eyes followed him as he moved closer, disappearing behind my peripheral vision. Hairs rising on the back of my neck, I started to turn but was stopped short at the feeling of uncomfortably cool skin resting on the back of my neck. Gasping, I made a sluggish movement forward, but my feeble attempt at creating distance between me and the owner of that hand was halted when his grip tightened. "Ah-?!" my voice came out high and strained, my mind was foggy, I didn't know what was happening. "Remember…" his flat voice whispered from behind. "It is always darkest before the Dawn…" With a sudden pressure on the back of my neck, the sound of moving air, and the impact of my head on the floor, all went black.

I watched the girl as she pitched forward, dead weight. She landed in an awkward heap on the floor, her hair a tangled mess, matted with sweat. _This young woman…what drives her? _I didn't understand, despite her failure, despite hearing the logic behind my plan, she still found the faith to oppose me, what was it? Was it that faith in the human race that gave her strength? I took slow steps around her limp body towards the front and stared down at her. Her black hair was held out of her face with the help of yellow clips. During our battle, they had loosened, letting her hair fall over her pale face. I let my eyes wander, following the form of her body sprawled at my feet. I could feel frustration beginning to bloom in my chest. I didn't understand. Narrowing my eyes I knelt down, lifting her head from the floor, her hat made a whispering sound as it fell. I straightening my body, I stood with the pathetic girl in my arms, I couldn't repress a shudder. It was repulsive the way that even unconscious she managed such a look of complete compassion and worry. I loathed it. Even in her sleep, she could evoke such feelings in a complete and whole being such as I. She, for all of her flaws and mistakes and stupidity, could convince me of her case rooted in such foolish passion without a single utterance when I, who had sat up many a sleepless night to compose words to such points that they would convince even the most skeptic, could not move her to my side. Maddening….Intriguing, I wanted to know how far her emotions would get her, I wanted to see proof that her faith could keep her coming back. _…Coming back to me…_ Did I really want her to return to me after all was said and done? Logically speaking, it would be much better to just dispose of her now and take care of it before things got out of hand. I abhorred violence but there could be no meddlers to my plan. But I didn't want her to disappear from my plans. Quite the contrary, I wanted her to return after this loss. Her Pokemon were weak and easily dealt with, it was hardly a challenge to hold such a girl at bay for long enough. But I didn't want to stop her, to push her back and away from us, but I wanted her to embrace us. Embrace our ideals. Accept and understand and support us. She would come to admit the stupidity of emotions. She would come to see the error of her ways. There was no doubt in my mind, for if she would not open her eyes to great the dawn of the new era of perfection, then I would force them open and make them take it all in.

My head throbbed, sitting up, I was greeted by the sight of the rising sun, the pale moon barely a shadow on the horizon. Blinking I turned my head to find a pokemon center across the street. Dizzy, I pushed myself off the bench. It took me a minute, the memories lagging behind me like slow ballons, but when they returned, I was forced to sit down again. I had lost. I failed to stop Cyrus, and my resolve was weakening. The back of my throat burned, I held back angry tears, the empty future looming before me. Standing up, I heard a small thud. Looking down , there was a pokeball, but it's brilliant red was replaced by a dark purple, a small letter 'M" embossed on the front. Throat constricting again, I picked up the ball with shaky hands. This, it couldn't be. A master ball. There was no reason for me to wonder where it came from. _…always darkest before the dawn…_ Those words came back to me, filling me with a new sense of hope, and confusion. This master ball, it was a call to arms, a dare. Will you come? Can you stand in the midst of all that oppose you and stay strong? Will you survive? I knew I could, and I would show him that I was more than willing and able to take on his challenge. Cyrus had emotions, I was sure of it. And I could show him the perfection of an imperfect world.


End file.
